Happiness Hit Her With A Bang
by fionacat36
Summary: Sometimes, all it takes is a little push in the wrong direction to realize what you really want. Collab with Berytni!


**So this stemmed from a late-night conversation on AIM with Brittany, then evolved. (Those conversations also included a version of Baby Got Back Ft. McHalowitz, but whatever.) **

**CREDIT GOES TO: Me****,**** Brittany (Berytni), and Brittany's friend Michelle who wrote the poem at the very bottom.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own a yellow hat, thank god, and neither does Brittany, therefore neither of us could be Ryan Murphy. Obviously, if we were, Tina and Artie would be doing cute things in every single scene, and this whole Mike debacle would merely be a key to further their relationship.**

It wasn't that she hadn't thought about it before - it would fit that stereotype, wouldn't it? A Goth girl _would_ write poetry. No one else would read it, she reasoned. It was just that she had never tried before. It was actually Artie's thing, which would probably surprise most people. He had read it to her before, usually with uncertainty stretched across his face, dancing in his eyes. He would take her hand - she would ignore the thrill that it sent up her arm - and he would read. Just to her - just the two of them alone in his room. She never got over how amazing it was when he read to her. Sometimes it was with conviction, sometimes with anger, but mostly gently and hushed. To be honest, she usually had to make an extra effort to hear his sweet phrases. Tina felt that each one of those poems bared his soul, and it was amazing to think that he had bared it all to her – for her.

She wanted to be able to do that with him, but she just…couldn't. She couldn't articulate the way he could, and get the point across. She wanted to, but she just... couldn't. So she just listened to his, and after the disastrous date, it was what she ended up missing most about him – his poems. Suddenly, all she wanted was to hear him talk, whisper one word…anything just to make her _feel_ something.

Then suddenly, they were together. And then instead of just holding her hand, he would kiss her lightly, sweetly, and then read. Then things changed. He started to complain about everything - always talking about the things he couldn't do, the things he wished he could do. And he wouldn't read to her. Maybe if he had, they wouldn't have broken up…but they did, and she would cry - wondering if it was something she did to make their duo fall apart. Had she pushed him too far? Did her clinginess make him want to go? Was she too needy?

Then one day she was buying ice cream and chocolate at the store when she ran into Mike Chang, her fellow Glee mate. Having hardly ever interacted with 'Other Asian' before, she didn't exactly know what he was like. Would he be rude, or mean? However, he smiled, and offered to carry some things for her. She hadn't bothered with a cart, and the stuff_ was _a little heavy. A few weeks later, she found herself kissing him, and figured maybe she could deal with the pain of losing Artie and be with someone else. After that, she didn't cry herself to sleep, think about him endlessly, or even regret pushing him away.

But then school started again, and she had to look at Artie every day, in almost every class. She was regretting that plan now. The plan where they managed to convince all their teachers freshman year that he needed her with him to get around. Now she had to look at him, and deal with all the questions. Mercedes and Kurt knew what had happened, but no one else did. Finn immediately said something about it, asked why they weren't sitting together. She had to deal with Rachel's confusion, as they were the "perfect couple", until Mercedes had shushed her. Tina went to sit with Mike. She ignored the hurt; the betrayed look on Artie's face, or at least pretended she hadn't seen it. Why did it upset her so much?

Why did she care? _Because you love him, you idiot_. She felt nauseous; she felt a headache coming on, she felt…terrible. Terrible for thinking like that next to Mike, whom cared about her deeply. She cared about him too, really she did, but it just wasn't love. Mike felt the same everyday; she didn't have to worry while with him. But Artie, Artie felt new everyday - like she could spend forever with him, and never get bored, never grow tired of him. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

She watched as Brittany leaned a little too close to Artie, sweeping her hand along his arm. Tina felt a surge of jealousy course through her. _Why do you care, you broke up, remember?_ She took Mike's outstretched hand, and tried to concentrate on what Mr. Schue was saying instead.

Weeks passed and still she clung to Mike, thinking maybe if she kissed him enough, spoke with him enough, laughed with him enough, she would eventually feel something while with him. She wanted Mike to read to her…like Artie once had. Maybe that was what made her fall in love with him in the first place, and the same thing would happen with Mike. However when she asked how he felt about writing poetry, he laughed, and asked why she would ask him such a thing. Why would she want him to write poetry? Tina replied with a weak smile and an even weaker heart. A couple days later he came up to her, and said that he tried writing some. Tina was excited, for she thought it would be the thing to fill the hole in her chest.

She had sweetly asked him to read it to her, with a big smile.

He had coldly replied, telling her maybe later.

But before he trailed off to his next class, he kissed her forehead and set a time where she could come over to his home later that day so he could read to her.

So she went to his house later that night. Knocking on the door, she noticed there wasn't a single car in the driveway – they were alone. He opened the door with a grin before kissing her. She staggered a bit, in shock, and grabbed him to keep from falling over. Then he took her hand eagerly, and dragged her inside before shutting the door.

He took her to his room, and reminded him. Then he kissed her again, letting his tongue slip out and massage first her lips, then her own tongue. He explored the roof of her mouth, the inside of her cheeks, every inch his tongue could reach. Then he let his hands run up and down her arms and back, and settle in her hair, his fingers twisting and tugging gently, pulling her body closer to his. She pulled away and asked him if he was going to read to her. His eyes widened slightly with disappointment, but he reached into his bedside table's drawer and pulled out a little square of folded paper.

He started to read, but Tina couldn't have been more disappointed. He didn't stumble over words or anything, but that power - the power of words that Artie possessed…just wasn't there. Mike didn't have it. _Just like your heart._

He was halfway through his second poem when he stopped, asked if they could take a break. He wanted to make out instead.

She shrugged and agreed, with an awkward smile.

He laid her down on the bed and hovered over her body for a moment, before taking her lips with his own. His kisses were eager, and longing for lust. To be honest, she had never even seen that side of him before. As he ran his hands down her sides, his lips traveled down her jaw line to her neck, and Tina gave in. She tangled her fingers in his hair, which was shorter and finer then Artie's, and it encouraged him more.

Suddenly he stopped, and leaned over, reaching into the drawer once again. Her eyes widened when she saw the bright purple foil.

She objected with a shake of her head, but he insisted and continued to kiss her with even more desire then before. Her body was pure, and giving herself up to someone she didn't love went against everything she believed in. She pulled out from under his body, held her knees tightly to her chest, and once again told him that she wasn't ready for such intimacy. Once again, he tried pressuring her with his words and touch until she pushed him away and stood up off his bed.

He questioned her loyalty with the cliché "if you loved me, you'd do this" line. That was the problem, she didn't love Mike Chang… she loved Artie Abrams. She started. That was it. She loved Artie.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Tina whimpered that she had to leave. She grabbed her jacket and started to exit the room, but Make grabbed her hand – almost in an apologetic manor. However, she pulled away and continued on her way. Her decision was made. She whispered a goodbye, and with it, they both knew. They were done. Mike stopped resisting, slumped on his bed, and watched her leave through the window.

Halfway home, Tina threw on her jacket, as it was rather cold. Sticking her hands into the zippered pockets for warmth, she came across a piece of notebook paper folded perfectly into eights. Curiosity come upon her, and once she realized what it was – she stopped dead in her tracks and firmly held the sheet of paper out in front of her. It was one of Artie's poems.

_Into the day, and into the night – I'll be the one to hold you firmly, hold you tight._

She couldn't read another line. It wasn't entirely because it hurt to do so, because it did, but it was the idea that came into her misplaced and crazy mind.

As expected, the Abram's household was pitch black. Using her cell phone for light, Tina made her way through the property until she reached the back patio door. From her previous experiences, there was always a key under the doormat. _It's not considered breaking and entering if I use a key, right? _she thought. After making sure everything was clear, she returned the key to its hiding spot before entering. She knew the Abram's house all too well, and because of Artie's wheelchair there were no steps to worry about forgetting or narrow pathways that begged to be ran into.

Artie's bedroom was the last door on the right. She knew it from memory, but the McFly poster helped too. Being careful not to let too much light in, Tina crept inside, and quietly shut the door behind her. She tiptoed though his room, until she reached the edge of his bed. He slept so cutely with the blankets bunched up to his chest, and she almost hated to wake him, but there was no going back. She reached a hand out, then pulled it back. _What am I doing? I can't just come to his house in the middle of the night! I should go_. But before she could, he let out a sort of half-whimper. And with that one little sound, her mind was set.

Patting his leg, she whispered his name, but soon reconsidered her hand placement with almost a chuckle. He stirred and groaned, but after a final call of his name – his eyes opened. Tina drew a shy smile upon her face, but it soon dropped once he confused her for his mother. Bending at the waist, she brought her face a nose away from his and put that theory to rest.

He shot up in bed and grabbed his glasses. _She needed a friend right now, please?_ She pleaded with him with her eyes while he let out a random rant about going to her super-duper, able bodied football playing dancer was for. Just to leave him alone. Tina gulped. Told him how Mike was the problem as she sat down on the edge of the bed. He narrowed his eyes._ Oh – Mike hurt you so you come running back to me. Great_. But, then he realized that she was crying. Without another word, he pulled Tina into his arms. She cried harder and told him what almost happened – and the reason it didn't.

He didn't even have to question it, and with a brush of his lips to her forehead, he said three words back to her. Three words that over half of the female population fantasize about. Three words can mean so much, especially to someone as broken as her.

However, he did question what made her come directly to his house. She sniffed, reached into her pocket, and without hesitation – Artie read over her shoulder the words he meant when he wrote the piece, and the words he meant right there with Tina in his arms.

Top of Form 1

Bottom of Form 1

And they both knew - even though there would probably be hell at school the next day - that everything would be alright.

We were juniors in college when he asked me. Well, I was a junior. He was already working on his Master's, since he had graduated with an A.A. in high school. We had both changed quite a bit, matured a lot. Artie had ditched the sweater vests and grandpa shoes for band t-shirts and sneakers (that were still easy to get on, as I had pointed out). I had toned my clothes down a little, but had kept the streaks in my hair, for now at least. _Mothers aren't supposed to dress like this, but I'm different. Well, maybe when Artie and I have kids, I'll – _I'm thinking too much again. I can pretend all I want, but I've been thinking about marrying Artie since the tenth grade.

I thought about what he had asked. Did I want to read at a poetry jam? Did I want to? These poetry reading things were his thing. If I wasn't good… What if his friends didn't like me? What if I got booed at or something? I _really_ didn't want to embarrass him, especially at something he cared so much for. And I'm not the poet in the relationship. But the more he assured and encouraged me, the more I was sure I was going to embarrass him in front of all those people. Then he had said something that had made me change my mind. _You don't have to be serious_, my brain reminded me. _It can be funny_. So I wrote a couple things, tried some stuff out. I didn't let him read any of it though.

Then the night came. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't terrified. I sat quietly in the passenger seat of the van, going over the little poem in my head a couple thousand times. Artie kept glancing over at me, but didn't mention it. He knew I wouldn't want him to. So he asked where I wanted to wanted to go eat afterwards. I grinned. Like he didn't know where I wanted to go. He looked at me, and laughed at my expression. Applebee's it was.

And then, after dinner… I watched his hand sneak off the wheel and into my lap. I laughed and held it between my palms, then playfully yelled at him to concentrate on driving. We wouldn't have fun until _after_ dinner. That was another thing that had changed. My confidence level had shot up, and with it my sex drive. We had literally been doing it everywhere. It just never got boring. _Maybe it's because you love him so much__._ Yeah, probably. I had actually based my poem on the rather… physical side of our relationship. I also hadn't read it to Artie, on purpose. It was rather blunt, and I wanted him to be surprised.

_Hmmm, maybe we can get that 2 for $20 deal. _

Then suddenly we were at the little bar, the one he went to once a month for these things. I was still slightly nervous, but much more confident than before. We sat at a little table near the front, mostly for Artie's benefit. The place could get surprisingly packed, and rolling over someone's foot wasn't going to do any good.

We had about 15 minutes before it actually started, so most of the poets were mingling and sharing stories with each other for that time. A few walked over and greeted Artie, and he – very proudly, I thought – introduced me as his wife. I grinned as they all came up to us. I had no idea Artie was so popular here. It made me a bit more nervous, and I ran into the bathroom. After quickly brushing my hair and touching up my eyeliner, I took a couple of deep breaths. A girl, maybe a little younger than Artie and I, stepped out of the stall behind me. She smiled, asked if I was Artie's wife. _Does everyone here know who I am?_ I voiced my question, and she laughed, a little tinkling laugh. Said that just about all of his poems were about me, about us. Said she'd heard I was quite… loud.

Blushing, I lowered my head. She asked if I was going to perform. Nodding, I thrust the little paper towards her. Her eyes widened a little. I probably seemed like a crazy person. I stammered out that this was the piece I planned on saying. It wasn't long, but she stared at the paper a long time. Finally, she gave it back to me and grinned. She said it was quite good, and her name was Raven. I smiled, said my name was Tina, and she laughed again. _She already knew that, stupid._ She wished me good luck, and then she was gone.

I walked quickly back to our table, where Artie had a nonalcoholic beer in his hand, and a diet soda on the table for me. I kissed him quickly, and then sat down. It was starting. He quietly explained who everyone was as they were walking to the mic.

David was the shaggy hair that read about his childhood. Greg was the one that talked about feeling oppressed because he was a trans. Melissa was the girl with the bright orange hair, the one that talked about her little baby at home. _I want a baby. So badly._ I glanced at Artie. He was going after… Jayden. That was her name. Jayden's a pretty name. I wondered how to talk to him about this. _I_ really _want a baby_. Now he was starting to roll up to the mic. I watched him lower it down, though not that far. Jayden had been short. Then he started.

"They say that couples that marry young never last, but baby, together, we can kick their ass. Straight to the curb, because you know that I love you, and I would never hurt you. But the sex helps. I've been doing some thinking; we've been married for a year. How's about maybe we start a little fire? Just a little one, but one that will grow, and will keep growing, for nine months. 'Cause baby, all I really want to do, is right here, right now, put a baby in you."

I was speechless.

Artie wanted a baby too? He grinned at me from the stage, and I knew. Tonight was perfect… hell, now was perfect. We've done it in weirder places. But, I still had to read my poem. Raven was slotted in between us. I tried to concentrate on her ramble about the many emotions of oak trees, but I found myself turning and staring at Artie. But before I could do anything, it was my turn. I walked quickly up to the microphone, grasping it in my somewhat sweaty palms. I had been slotted last, so it was over when I was done. Everyone was watching me.

"Sex on wheels - my favorite meal. He's a cripple with two nipples...and I'm done. Let's bang."

As my eyes fixated on his, I knew we were going to be awesome parents.

We skipped dinner.


End file.
